tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4837253889689806229.post7827715902435324567..comments2009-09-28T00:16:41.602-06:00Comments on Theopoetics in a Moment: The Literal TrickWildflowerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00595612308425401053noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4837253889689806229.post-57925355053669280832009-09-03T01:03:37.186-06:002009-09-03T01:03:37.186-06:00#3: I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised by ...#3: I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised by your pragmatism, but does beauty and responsibility fit into your approach? You know, quite frankly, I could care less about the "concepts" of a text, if it has a beautiful approach to the world, if it sheds light on possible ethical worldviews. How are concepts and truth exactly going to help us as tragedy continues to rip our world asunder?<br /><br />If our culture considered beauty and ethics more before we considered how to achieve our ends, i.e. if we considered the values that support our ends before we jumped in head-first with an attempt to find that fastest, most efficient way to actualize those ends, perhaps we'd have a more ethical culture. As I wrote in my post, truth, by itself, it useless.<br /><br />#4 Not only is this unjustifiably reductionistic (see above), it is also seems to claim that function is completely separate from the text/aesthetics/ethics. However, you are the first to admit that method (in consideration of audience) matters. Isn't method simply another (con)text, a way of telling a story? If this is true, and I think it is, you are not justified in dismissing Derrida (or other "ambiguous"/responsible) authors) simply because their way of conveying meaning is distasteful. The idea (eidos) of the text is the eikon (image). And the image does not simply consist of the concepts. It is the holistic text itself.<br /><br />We like living in our own horizon of meaning. Writers like Derrida break upon us, shatter our horizons. Dismissal is certainly an option, but if anything I say about the literal trick holds any weight, such is an ethical mistake. You claim we should read books on the quality of their ideas. I disagree. Instead, we like to read books that give us familiar mazes, mazes we have walked before. We feel more comfortable. We don't have to question. Or search. Evaluations of quality (and/or justifications of quality) are emotive states.<br /><br />There are NO ideas beyond a text - any idea is within the text, is the text itself. Every reading is a matter of process. And, ethically and aesthetically speaking, my claim is that we should pick the novel, different maze, the novel, different text. As you recognize, difference will imply ambiguity (different languages, different methods, different goals, etc.), but those differences shatter our protective, limiting horizons. And ultimately, since our horizons always exclude, I think we have no option but to listen to our ghosts, search for differences, and walk the novel, complex mazes before us. If we do (and that is a big if), we will not end up at the beginning again. Instead, we will find ourselves within a new moment, ready to start one more maze.Wildflowerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00595612308425401053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4837253889689806229.post-50290995692212846142009-09-03T01:03:29.031-06:002009-09-03T01:03:29.031-06:00Ryan,
Well, I suppose (unintentionally) my post (...Ryan,<br /><br />Well, I suppose (unintentionally) my post (and your response) illustrated my point. If I could be so forward to paraphrase your objections, they are:<br /><br />#1: Method and audience are important and should not be ignored by any author.<br /><br />#2: Ambiguity is avoidable.<br /><br />#3: Texts are really (only) about ideas.<br /><br />#4: Any considerations beyond concepts/ideas are a waste of time.<br /><br />I divided your four points because my response differs to each claims. Here are my responses:<br /><br />#1: Sure. I don't disagree. And I think you'd be hard pressed to find anything in my post that claimed such. However, since I did claim (in my post) that an author should be conscious of the ambiguity of meaning, I suppose it could be a possible strand of meaning. Method and audience are important. However, I'd like to make two points here. First, breaking out of the method of a discipline can be a good idea sometimes - as all methods have an ideological bias. For example, and I think you'll agree, the methods of sociology are biased toward certain causes (good or bad). Questioning the methods of discourse can be quite helpful in the cases where this bias causes oppression and/or injustices. Also, simply because we use one method in one field does not mean it is the foundation for meaning in language. That is the heart of the literal trick - one form of discourse, one perspective limiting itself to a singularity.<br /><br />Audience is important to keep in mind as well - but we would do well to remember how tightly connected method and audience are. Without keeping the methods in mind of a particular discipline, we wouldn't know where to begin with a particular audience. Every audience rallies around banners. Speak their language at your own risk.<br /><br />I will say, however, that audiences/methods are some considerations (among many) that a responsible speaker/author should have in mind as they raise their lantern. I did write that we have a responsibility for the intentionality/directionality behind our words, however spread out the result might be. As far as I can tell, the lantern you raise does nothing to contradict what I say here.<br /><br />#2: You never go out and say that ambiguity is merely an option (rather than a reality), but as far as I can tell, your argument is held up centrally by this underlying assumption. I doubt you'd go so far as claim that it is completely avoidable, so for the moment, I'll assume you would claim that ambiguity is at least partially avoidable (by choice). That may well be true. Whether we should always make that choice is doubtful - who would enjoy strictly literal poetry, for example? Certainly, I will go so far as claim that we have some freedom in the direction we shed our light/words. I can choose to hold my lantern in your direction, without shining it in your eyes, or intentionally covering up the light. That does not mean however, that I have particular control over a)every particle of light's direction and b)what the light will shed on. Ambiguity is unavoidable. Pretending it doesn't exist so we can keep up our illusionary language games simply seems irresponsible. If we truly want to communicate with each other (and believe me, that is my interest), wouldn't it be wise to acknowledge the limits of communication?Wildflowerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00595612308425401053noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4837253889689806229.post-1314413705669203902009-09-02T14:20:21.933-06:002009-09-02T14:20:21.933-06:00I completely disagree. Every writer has (or should...I completely disagree. Every writer has (or should have) an implied audience, someone the writer knows is 'illuminated' in certain ways. The entire purpose of writing, usually, is to communicate a particular idea in a particular way. Say I give an essay on economics to an economist. I've written this essay for an economist, I can reasonably expect, if I have written well, for them to be able to grasp the concept I was trying to explain. If I write poorly, or over-ambiguously, I convey a different idea or none at all, or more likely the audience stops reading. My writing becomes ambiguous when it reaches an unintended audience who is unfamiliar with the language, concepts, and jargon of the subject. This doesn't mean that since someone outside the intended audience can't understand that language is in and of itself meaningless or super-ambiguous, it just means that you have to know something about the writer and the purpose of the writing to comprehend it. Just as if I give a paper written in English to someone who doesn't speak it, he'll get a different meaning out of it (none, usually).<br /><br />People like Derrida are masters obfuscation because they want to challenge the reader to pay attention to the text itself, instead of the ideas, because the ideas aren't deserving of as much attention as the author would like. It's like going through a long, complicated maze that ends back at the beginning; and maybe after you get through, they give you a gold star, but the primary reward of such writing is frustration (and headaches).Ryan Langrillhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15080552998325983982noreply@blogger.com